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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27583420">Don't Fear the Reaper</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/blipintiime/pseuds/blipintiime'>blipintiime</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Torchwood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, F/M, Ghosts, Jack being Jack, M/M, Supernatural Elements, who you gonna call</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:28:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,873</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27583420</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/blipintiime/pseuds/blipintiime</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Nothing good will come from this, Jack. The spirit here is angry and violent, he was a murderer once and I don’t think he wants his story out there for the world to know. I can feel him, Jack, and it’s like I want to hurt you. It scares me,” she warns, her voice low and eyes reflecting viridescent in the torch light as she looks from team member to team member, “it should scare you too.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>A silence follows that cannot be described, and Ianto wonders if Jack feels the same chill that raises his own flesh as he senses their fearless leader shift his weight beside him.</i>
</p><p>-------------------------------</p><p>What if instead of aliens, the Torchwood team investigated hauntings? Ghosts aren't that different from aliens, and a lot less dangerous - right?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gwen Cooper/Rhys Williams, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Don't Fear the Reaper</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello! This is my first solo Torchwood fic and of course I decide to write an AU. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>should have learned by now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jack, we can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>be here</span>
  </em>
  <span> anymore, we have to get out!” Gwen’s voice has a panicked edge to it that Ianto doesn’t like. It sends a shiver down his spine and as his gaze shifts between their leader and Gwen, his fingers tighten around the torch in his hand. If anything, he’s grateful for the few minutes of light this conversation grants him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a brief moment, the youngest of the group is almost sure he can feel what Gwen is so afraid of. It’s an encroaching darkness, right? A cold that seeps beneath your skin and turns your veins to ice before you realise the temperature of the room hasn’t changed in one direction or another. Never would he claim to have the abilities gifted to their resident medium, but he so often wonders if his belief has made him open to the possibility.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well I, for one, think we may as well keep going. Miss Impending Doom over here can spout all of the psychic </span>
  <em>
    <span>crap</span>
  </em>
  <span> she wants, but it’s not as if any of us can actually be hurt by one of these things, yeah?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And just like that, the feeling is gone and Ianto finds himself snapping back to reality. He isn’t quite sure he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> to have any sort of abilities that connect him to the spirit world, and they do seem to find ways to talk to him without a psychic link. He’ll leave that for Gwen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ianto doesn’t need the torch light to illuminate Owen’s face in order to see the eye-roll his tone alludes to. But, neither Jack nor Gwen pay him much mind, both too preoccupied with the stare-down created from their argument. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We keep going.” There is a finality to Jack’s voice, and Ianto, forever faithful to their leader, moves to bring the group into darkness once again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you dare, Jack.” And the stubbornness within </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> tone keeps Ianto from moving. “Rhys, could you turn off the camera please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep rolling, Rhys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You turn that bloody camera off right now, Rhys—</span>
  </em>
  <span>“ her voice trails off and Ianto is all too aware of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Williams</span>
  </em>
  <span> that nearly slipped from her tongue. Even his own muscles tense at the near-miss, knowing the dangers warned of allowing the dead to know your full name, and the beat of silence that passes somehow only works to thicken the tension in the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, mate,” Rhys says, finally, the first to relent, as he turns the camera off and lowers it to his side with a slight shrug in their lead’s direction. Really, Ianto doesn’t blame him for following Gwen’s orders, but it cannot be missed the way he finds himself a fraction of an inch closer to Jack as the beam of light emitting from his torch shines solely on the medium, allowing her expression to tell a tale of fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing good will come from this, Jack. The spirit here is angry and violent, he was a murderer once and I don’t think he wants his story out there for the world to know. I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> him, Jack, and it’s like </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to hurt you. It scares me,” she warns, her voice low and eyes reflecting viridescent in the torch light as she looks from team member to team member, “it should scare you too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A silence follows that cannot be described, and Ianto wonders if Jack feels the same chill that raises his own flesh as he senses their fearless leader shift his weight beside him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jack, I’m picking up voices on static cam three,” the soft voice of their technological savant over their radios [ Jack can insist they </span>
  <em>
    <span>use</span>
  </em>
  <span> walkie talkies, but Ianto will continue to avoid the term at all costs ] dissolves the palpable tension, all focus now on Toshiko as she directs them to the activity. It is then that Jack locks eyes with the young welshman and Ianto becomes all too aware that Gwen’s warning will not be heeded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a chaotic excitement that swirls within those pools of blue, and there is no denying the way it stirs an excitement within himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, he is weak for that man and would follow him into the darkest of circumstances.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You up for it?” When it comes to Jack, Ianto will </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> be up for anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Owen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Well</span>
  </em>
  <span>, we’ve only got a few hours of dark left, and I reckon if we take our sweet time deciding if it’s worth it, ghosty out there may just move on into the light. So, why the hell not?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right then, it’s settled. Camera on, Rhys, looks like we’re about to have ourselves a little conversation with a dead murderer.” And as he turns, Jack cannot keep from sending Ianto’s heart aflutter with a wink tossed his way. The moment is fleeting and all the same, it reminds him why he’s here - reminds him </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’s signed up to search for the paranormal in front of, well, millions the last they’d heard. “Gwen, you don’t have to do this. You can stay behind, have Rhys give the camera to Ianto, and the two of you take a break. It isn’t going to be easy in there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack. He’s why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not, I’m not letting you lot go in there blind.” And just like that, the argument is laid to rest, Jack’s hand not moving from where it’s found itself resting upon Gwen’s arm. There is, perhaps, a collective and internal sigh of relief among those not directly involved, for none enjoy what tense situations may arise from heightened emotions in the midst of an investigation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Jack responds, torso twisting to first cast a quick glance to the camera before catching the eye of their medium’s husband, a raised finger pointing in his direction. “Keep your eye on her. First sign of distress, I want her out of there, you hear?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack doesn't wait for a response, no doubt trusting that Rhys is already on the same page. Instead, the face of their show finds Ianto’s gaze and with a nod, they’re once again plunged into the suffocating blackness of an active location. And for the first time since he’d joined Jack Harkness on his hunt for the paranormal, Ianto holds his breath and says a silent prayer for protection. Not for himself, but for the idiot heading off to antagonise the ghost of a killer, the idiot he undoubtedly loves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From beside him, a gentle hand reaches out and squeezes his own. Gwen, he realises, and while he is unable to see her face through the darkness, there is a part of him that simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> she can feel when he connects with his more spiritual side. A side of himself he’d ignored for so long until he </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> anymore, not with everything they’d experienced during investigations. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Ianto exhales. He’s ready. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Toshiko!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Charm finds its way back into the voice of their leader, never missing for long - even when the cameras are off. “These voices, can you make anything out? Confessions, threats? Anything we can use to get a response out of him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“From what I can make out, there are two distinct voices coming through. One is male. He seems to be the stronger presence, mostly growling and the odd ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>get out’</span>
  </em>
  <span> here and there, but I can see his energy is starting to manifest. The EMF spikes are increasing in both frequency and intensity. Be careful out there.” For what it’s worth, he appreciates how she manages to keep the concern from hanging too heavily from her words, though he knows if anyone other than himself were to take Gwen’s warnings seriously, it would most certainly be Tosh. “The other, </span>
  <em>
    <span>well</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it’s a bit harder to distinguish tones of whispers, but they </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> asking for someone in particular.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On second thought, he determines he may prefer worry to the amused lilt that clues him in to whose name had come through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks like our Ianto, here, has another admirer in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>great beyond</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” The snigger lacing Owen’s comment ensures he receives no response from Ianto - well, apart from a less than enthusiastic </span>
  <em>
    <span>hmph </span>
  </em>
  <span>and an, unfortunately, unseen roll of his eyes. If the team knows him as they should, they’ll have pictured it perfectly within their own minds: the way crystal-blue hued eyes find the ceiling with a look of both exasperation and annoyance touching each feature of his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just what I needed.” Muttering under his breath, a hand runs through the dark hair at the back of his head. It is unsure as to </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> those who have passed seem to take a liking to the youngest of the investigative team [ Gwen asserts it’s his open and calming aura ], but the running tally has Ianto’s name whispered within the white noise of a hand-held recorder far more than any of the others. Even Jack, whose presence outshines </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> who happens to occupy the same room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not even the dead are immune to a voice with the ability to send shivers down your spine.” Jack does that sexy thing with his voice and the shifting clarity to his timbre alerts Ianto to the fact that his boyfriend [ a fact kept well enough away from the public thus far, though Ianto can only assume it won’t stay private for much longer. Oh well ] has turned his head to peer at him through the darkness. Suddenly, he’s grateful for a lack of light to highlight the flush he feels creeping across his cheeks. Oh, how he wishes Jack wouldn’t elicit these reactions from him in such a public forum - or, so he says. There’s a certain thrill in it, really. “Those types of reactions </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>kind of their thing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If only Ianto could </span>
  <em>
    <span>see</span>
  </em>
  <span> the grin that he knows to be stretching across Jack’s lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jack, could you keep talking?” Gwen interrupts the moment, if it </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> be called as such, with a request that sends a flicker of confusion across Ianto’s face at the urgency within it. “Go on, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Jack continues with only the slightest hint of bemusement that Ianto can hear, both knowing Gwen would not ask in such a way without good reason. “Owen, when we get into that room, I want your eyes on that EMF detector, </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> sign of irregular activity you let me know.” A pause follows his order, a clear marker where Jack will, in the dramatic fashion he holds throughout each episode, explain to the audience </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> what an EMF detector does. “Toshiko, I want to know the </span>
  <em>
    <span>instant</span>
  </em>
  <span> a voice comes through and what he’s saying. Ianto, </span>
  <em>
    <span>well</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you just keep standing there look--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A strangled groan catches the team off guard, Ianto wasting no time as he flicks his torch back on, without waiting on instructions from Jack, and illuminates the team with what little light it produces. That hadn’t been a spirit, that anguished noise had come from </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gwen. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s your </span>
  <em>
    <span>voice</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Gwen sounds as though each word she speaks brings her pain, fingers gripping at the roots of her hair and eyes trained on their leader with a ferocity Ianto’s not seen in her before. So many times he’s witnessed Gwen in her own anger and that of the dead, but never like </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “When you speak, it’s like I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> what he wants to do to you, Jack.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing more than the sound of his wife in pain is what it takes for Rhys to abandon his post, and Ianto knows what is coming without it truly registering, for his hands already extend to take the camera into their grasp before Rhys even begins to shove it in Ianto’s direction. He trusts Rhys to handle both their medium and the torch, instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that right?” Jack speaks louder now, no longer directly addressing Gwen as her husband wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her in tight against his side, but the entity which speaks through her. “I’ve never received complaints about my voice before. A smooth and pleasant baritone, it’s even been called. No, I don’t think it’s my </span>
  <em>
    <span>voice</span>
  </em>
  <span> at all, is it?” With Gwen safe in the camera man’s hold, Ianto’s full attention is dragged to their leader as he watches a sneer pull at Jack’s lips. “You’re afraid I’m going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>out</span>
  </em>
  <span> you for the murderer you are. Think we might find out your name? You’re not </span>
  <em>
    <span>angry</span>
  </em>
  <span>, are you? You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>AFRAID.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air grows heavy around them in the silence that follows, none daring to speak a word in the case that Tosh chimes in with a message from the spirit. Wide, blue eyes find each investigator and Ianto cannot help both the surprise and vindication that settles within his chest when he recognises the nervousness that clouds Owen’s expression. Even their skeptic can sense the gravity of the situation they’ve been thrown into.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something about this is far different from anything they've ever before experienced. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shrill beeping emits from the device within Owen’s grasp. Ianto jumps; he thinks they all jump as the silence is broken in such a jarring way and all eyes are dragged to the luminescent green that can only signal one thing. Another presence has entered the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not sure I need to tell you what </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> means, Jack,” Owen comments with an unfamiliar tightness to his voice.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It means it’s about time we crank things up a notch.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>thud thud thud thud</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jack?”  Can anyone else hear that? Ianto’s head turns in search of the sound’s source, his breath hitching in anticipation - as though he expects a figure to be approaching them from behind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, you can say all you want about me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>whisper</span>
  </em>
  <span> threats my way, but you’ve messed with a member of my team. You really want to prove you’re some big, bad ghost? You want </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span> to fear </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Then show yourself and face me. Not Gwen. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Me.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>thud thud thud thud</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Jack!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ianto’s sudden exclamation, the widened eyes and fearful expression taking over his face is enough to pull Jack from his raving. Even in the dim light of the torch, the way Jack’s gaze softens as it finds the younger man cannot be missed by those who watch close enough. To Ianto’s comfort, the other man starts in his direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m getting a drop in temperature in the area around Ianto,” Tosh’s voice crackles over the radio, and it is though an electric current spreads over his skin, each hair standing on end. “Three degrees...</span>
  <em>
    <span>four</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack stops, but not without giving Ianto a glance over - just in case. There is something about the way anger clouds what was once concern, Ianto watching as his boyfriend’s expression shifts before he turns with a gusto and calls out once again, “you </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> shouldn’t have done that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a flurry of motion and, though usually Ianto would be the first on Jack’s heels when an idea has somehow both been formed and put into action within a fraction of a second, he finds himself unable to move under the weight of what has just occurred. Never was he in any danger, of that he is </span>
  <em>
    <span>mostly</span>
  </em>
  <span> sure, but so openly had Jack come to his defence that for a moment it feels as though the Ianto’s Earth had shifted off its axis. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jack, what </span>
  <em>
    <span>the hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> do you think you’re doing with that?</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Owen, it seems, is the first to kick himself into gear, having taken off into the next room after their leader, and his exclamation drags Ianto’s thoughts away from protective partners, instead following the incredulous voice of their skeptic with Rhys and Gwen in tow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He almost wishes he’d just remained in the hall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Christ, Jack</span>
  </em>
  <span>, what do you think you’re going to do, </span>
  <em>
    <span>chop </span>
  </em>
  <span>the spirit to a second death?” Gwen still clings to her husband’s side as her voice finds a higher pitch in her shock at the sight of their show’s lead with an axe in hand and an donning an expression Ianto can’t find the words to describe. It is chaos and determination all in one, with the slightest hint of the impishness that always manages to drag Ianto [ and, he suspects, every other member of their investigative team ] on board with Jack’s antics. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, this is too much. Isn’t it? Eyes, first, glance about the room - had the axe been here, lying in wait? Had he not noticed the face of their show walking through the haunted location with an axe on his person? Surely, Ianto hadn’t missed </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>. There is no time to ponder further on how the weapon was acquired, for it matters less than Jack’s intended plan with it. He turns to look at the other man once again, eyes peering over the camera still poised to capture whatever is to come for the world to see. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He wants to show his anger so badly, wants to </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span> me like he’s making you feel, Gwen, then I say--” the grin that stretches across his lips is </span>
  <em>
    <span>dangerous</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It does not contain joy as most smiles do, but a menacing challenge. And what cannot be denied is the way it sends a flurry of nervous energy through Ianto’s stomach, one that cannot be distinguished from unadulterated attraction. “Do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a final look to the camera, a raise of his brow accompanying the mischief flashing within those blue eyes in an attempt to get whoever will be watching this sucked into the action on their screen, Jack crosses the room and finds a spot on the floor, laying his body down on the dust-coated concrete of a long-abandoned building. Within Ianto is the smallest urge to protest this newfound positioning, so many years has this floor been untouched by chemicals meant to keep it clean that he cannot imagine what collectis upon Jack’s clothing is </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe</span>
  </em>
  <span> by any means.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, the axe he rests against the wall with it’s sharpened edge alarmingly in line with his face is far more concerning than the dust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Jack</span>
  </em>
  <span>, are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>crazy</span>
  </em>
  <span>? That thing could fall on your face at any second!” For the first time, Ianto speaks up, and his voice, though hardly more than a whisper, catches Jack’s attention above similar exclamations from those within the room. Pulling the camera away from his shoulder, gazes of a similar blue meet and etched within the young Welshman’s expression is a concern that Jack, it seems, cannot ignore. The nod he gives Ianto is miniscule at best, meant for one person and one person alone, but within it a host of reassurances as his expression shifts to a smile of the softest variety. It doesn’t vanish until he returns his head to the ground and Ianto is forced to ready the camera once again, a deep breath filling his lungs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want to kill me, come on,” Jack calls out into the air, his voice echoing against the barren walls. “All it takes is </span>
  <em>
    <span>one little push</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Make that axe fall and show the world how powerful you </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A beat of silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No? You </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to do it? Or you </span>
  <em>
    <span>CAN’T</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ianto!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Pack up the kit, seems like we’re scar--” the beeping from Owen’s hand returns, as piercing and unnerving as it had been before, only this time the light glows yellow, causing Ianto’s eyes to frantically scan the room for the source of this change in energy readings though he attempts, with all of the professionalism he can muster as his boyfriend invites certain death, to keep Jack within the shot’s frame. He does not miss the way Gwen’s eyes are squeezed shut, her knuckles turning white as she grips at her husband’s clothing, or Rhys’s head turning to glance between the medium and Jack and back again. Even Owen stares at the small device with an unprecedented intensity worrying his brow. No one utters a word, anticipation thickening the air until Ianto feels as though the breath he’d taken in now strangles him from within. Something is here - even he can feel it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold on.” Tosh’s voice over the radio’s static adds to the continuous shifting energy of the room, a tight edge to her voice indicating the split of her attention between the team and her tech. “I’m getting more voices coming through the static cam, but I can’t--” her sigh of frustration is a welcome familiarity among the chaos of such an active investigation. “I can’t make out what they’re saying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Owen, get the spirit box out, I think our friend, here, has something to say.” Much to Ianto’s chagrin, Jack doesn’t move from his spot upon the floor, only turning his head to look at the Londoner, who simply nods in return before digging through the bag always slung across his torso. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of the machine scanning the airwaves fills the room, its pulsing static overpowering and intertwining with the high-pitched tones of the EMF reader’s warning in a symphony of the most clashing and overwhelming kind, throwing the room into a cacophony of sounds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, there’s nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got something to say, this is your chance!” Jack’s voice must increase in volume to be heard over the spirit box, the dizzying effect of so much conflicting noise within one room nearly causing Ianto to stagger back. A breath is taken, and he stands his ground, still capturing the scene before him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A silence follows, if it can be called such a thing as a maelstrom of sound encompasses the small group, all ears in the room straining to make out any evidence of a spirit among them. His attention returns to Gwen, jaw clenching when he sees the pained look twisting her features and something in him knows she is pushing down whatever negative energy is siphoned from the entity. “</span>
  <b>
    <em>jack.</em>
  </b>
  <span>” Ianto isn’t sure he’s heard right, not until both medium and cameraman whip their heads around to find Owen. The pounding of his heart beats in time with the pulse of the static, his chest near shaking with each rise and fall. “</span>
  <b>
    <em>axekill.</em>
  </b>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teeth clench around the urge to call out to Jack, knowing they’d all heard what came through the spirit box, instead Ianto finds himself inching closer to the man he is almost certain has put himself in grave danger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gwen? Gwen, love, what’s going on?” Rhys’s concern is nearly drowned out by the noise of competing devices, and is met only with a groan that sounds as though it’s being dragged through gritted teeth, Gwen’s eyes are still shut - her expression still contorted. “We have to get her out of here, Jac--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her shout turns all heads, a desperation clawing at the edges of her tone as her body lunges forward toward their lead, Rhys only </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> able to keep her from falling as his arms wrap fully around her middle and pull her body flush against his own. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to stay here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rhys and Ianto exchange a look, neither daring to argue with Gwen, for the urgency with which she cries out scares them both, this he knows with absolute certainty. It is a moment of solidarity, and he acknowledges his friend’s husband with a small nod before turning back to Jack, making him the focus of the shot once more as he takes another step forward. Rhys has his person to protect; now Ianto has his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Leave her be! It’s me you’re angry at! You want to get mad? You want to cause pain? The axe is right there, I know you see it so push it!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Voice raw from shouting, a vein along the curve of Jack’s neck begins to protrude as the protectiveness he so strongly feels for each of his team finds a way into his words. It stirs an overwhelming emotional reaction within Ianto’s chest - a fondness of increasing intensity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>
    <em>kill</em>
  </b>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>DO IT!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Please, Jack. Stop this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ianto’s breath catches within his throat. He cannot breathe - cannot find his focus among the noise, the tension, the emotions, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>pain</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It’s all so much and so consuming; his knees threaten to give and he must will himself not to buckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>JACK, MOVE,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Gwen roars above the chaos, and finally, Jack heeds her warning. His body twists, hands finding the ground to drag himself away from the wall as the clattering of the axe hitting the concrete cuts through all else that thickens the air around them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Ianto moves nearly in sync with Jack, hands shoving the camera at Owen and trusting he has a firm grasp as he waits not to let go, his body falling to his knees at Jack’s side. Both men cling to the other’s arms, fingers digging into skin as Ianto pulls Jack further from the fallen weapon - blade resting where Jack’s head had been only seconds ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Turn that shit off, Owen. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Now!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” It is, perhaps, the first time Rhys has given orders, and Owen doesn’t question it, hands fumbling to set the camera aside and turn off both devices.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room falls silent. Truly silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Relief floods through Ianto as he holds Jack tight against his chest, his head dipping to press his forehead to the other man’s temple as the two take a moment, together, to find their breath. A beat passes and Ianto feels Jack’s body relax into his, allowing for this comfort. Only when they pull back, does Ianto notice the look in Jack’s eye, and though it lasts a split second before it is replaced with that flashy grin of a show well done, Ianto recognises it for what it is: </span>
  <b>fear</b>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay, Jack?” Ianto keeps his voice low, a question not meant for anyone else’s ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why wouldn’t I be? I’m alive, Yeah?” Though he tries to play it off, the quiet that follows clues him in to Ianto’s disbelief. “I’m fine, Ianto. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Really</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Course.” Locked gazes do not break until each man bears the slightest hint of a smile tugging at their lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right, team. I think that’s enough for the night.” Jack is the first to rise to his feet as he speaks, reaching out to offer a hand to Ianto. He’s grateful for the extra support, even more so for the reassuring hand that finds the centre of his back and remains there as Jack gives orders. “Rhys, get our girl to the car. Get her some water and I want a full once-over. If anything seems off, I want to know immediately. Owen, help Toshiko break down HQ. Ianto, you’re with me. We have some cameras to collect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And just like that, the team falls back into place.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The doors to the large, black SUV close the team off from the haunted location, and it is as though all tension lingering from the occurrences within that room melt away. Still, no one speaks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ianto’s head turns to look at Jack from the passenger’s seat, eyes roaming over him and ensuring he is all right to drive - ensuring he is okay. With a sigh, he finds Gwen and Rhys in the rearview mirror, their cameraman holding their medium within his arms, lips pressed to the top of her head as she simply stares out the window. Tosh finds comfort in her computer, but he knows the expression that clenches her jaw. She’d not been immune to the fear that gripped them all as she’d listened in on the near-death of their leader. Owen sits further back, a third row of seats having been needed once Rhys had become a permanent member of the team, his head resting within his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And maybe it is coincidence, maybe Owen can feel Ianto’s gaze, but he glances up from his hands and they share a look of acknowledgement before the skeptic rolls his eyes and returns to his previous positioning. He doesn’t take it to heart, for there had been no malice within it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve received an email asking if we’re interested in investigating an abandoned prison.” Toshiko looks up, eyes finding Jack as she speaks. “Apparently, it used to hold criminals in need of the highest security levels.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, Ianto wonders if this has been it: their last show - Jack having nearly died and Gwen on the verge of having a nervous breakdown in the middle of an investigation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Is it simply too much?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack turns to Ianto, meeting his eyes, and he knows immediately that he will follow Jack wherever he may lead them. It is apparent Jack recognises this, as he turns with a smile beginning to touch his lips. All eyes are on him, no one speaks out against it and instead there is an almost resignation that settles over the team. They’re in it for the long haul.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell them we’ll contact them in a few days to sort out a time.” Both Ianto and Jack turn to face front, looking to each other for the briefest of moments before the SUV comes to life with the turn of a key. “For now, how does breakfast sound?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. He doesn’t think they’ll ever learn. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading! Any kudos or comments would be so greatly appreciated! Have a great day!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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